Besties
by oh-you-pretty-things
Summary: If you love a stranger, be friends. If you love your friend, be best friends. If you love your best friend, tell him. Modern AU. Hiccstrid.
1. Besties

_AN: So, this was the result of a drabble request on tumblr for a story where Hiccup and Astrid are best friends who hook up one drunken night. Oh, yes, they were supposed to be in relationships with other people. I played around with that concept a bit. This is also posted on tumblr, but it ended up being so much longer than a drabble, so I thought I would share it here, too. (And before anyone asks: yes, I am working on ALL my in progress stories. Don't worry.) _

Astrid wasn't used to waiting. She certainly wasn't used to waiting for a _guy_. Where was he, exactly? She'd _invited_ him. To be here with _her_. He'd been hounding her for _years_ to go on a date with him, you'd think he'd jump at the chance to walk her into Hiccup's house and show her off.

_Where are you? _Her thumbs moved in rapid, vicious thumps against the screen of her phone.

Someone pushed past her and opened the door spilling warmth, loud voices, and obnoxiously cranked dance music with a heavy bass beat out onto the porch. Astrid rolled her eyes and glared at her phone. Effing Snotlout. That effing _jerk_. He should be following her around like a puppy dog, not leaving her waiting in the cold.

She didn't want to go inside. If she went inside, she'd have to see Hiccup with his arm around Heather's waist. She should be glad for him. She should be happy that he finally had a girlfriend (even though he vehemently proclaimed that she was _not_ his girlfriend to Astrid). He's her best friend and she should be happy but all she felt was this overwhelming sense of betrayal every time he turned down hanging out with her in favour of _that girl_. She hated the way he tried to appease both of them, too. Heather can't like that either. He can't be in two places at once, no matter how hard he tried.

There was the other problem, too. The problem where he was leaving her behind. How _dare _he get a girlfriend before she got a boyfriend. She was so pissed about that. She'd been fighting off guys since she was _thirteen_. She could have gone out of _Eret_. But she hadn't (even with those arms). She hadn't because she just _didn`t want to_. Astrid didn`t need a boyfriend. Why would she need a boyfriend when she had Hiccup? It was an ideal relationship – they had so much in common, they had each other's backs, and he never asked her for anything more than that. Other boys kissed her with sloppy mouths and too much tongue; they had _so many_ hands. Gross. Hiccup never asked her for any of that. And he never assumed. Because they were friends. They were best friends. And that's why she didn't want to be inside right now. She didn't want to see her _best friend_ making a complete idiot of himself over _some girl_. That and effing Snotlout was _standing her up_.

Her phone chimed and she hated the way her eyes flicked down to it, like she was just standing there _waiting _for his call. (She was.)

_sorri babe games on_

Astrid stared at the grammatical abomination that had infected her phone with stupidity. Her eyebrows were high up her forehead and for a split second, she had _no idea_ what to say to that. Of course that moment passed and her thumbs started their vicious assault.

_Forget it. Don't try to call me. Don't even look at me._

She shut her phone off before Snotlout had a chance to send her his asinine reply. If he showed up tonight, Astrid would pound his stupid face in. _No one_ stood up Astrid Hofferson and lived to talk about it. Her first thought was that she wanted to show Hiccup the stupid text; she wanted to sit on his bed and laugh about Snot being an idiot; she wanted to feel comfortable and happy. She wanted everything to be right again. But she couldn't go in there and wave her phone in front of Hiccup now; he had a _girlfriend._

"Well," she whispered to herself, her breath billowing out in clouds of steam, "get in there, Hofferson."

She pushed open the door, letting the sound and warmth wash over her. The usual suspects were here, drinking and yelling and having a _great_ time in Hiccup's ridiculously oversized house. Stoick would have his head mounted on the wall if he knew what happened when he went out of town. He always assumed that she and Hiccup had spent the entire time he was gone playing Risk or trash-talking while playing MarioKart. He was so wrong.

Astrid took off her coat and hung it in the front hall closet. Judging by the marked lack of coats, no one else had bothered to hang theirs. They were probably piled on a bed in one of the many guest rooms. Weaving through the off-kilter crowd, Astrid made her way to the kitchen and paused in the doorway. Hiccup was standing next to, but not touching Heather. She was laughing at something he'd said and he was smiling at her (although Astrid was gratified to see that his smile was not reaching his eyes, which meant he was nervous about something – her gratification fell away when she realized he was probably just nervous about _her_). He looked over his shoulder and saw her. His smile was wide and genuine and real; it reached his eyes and they crinkled up so nicely in the corners. Her face echoed his whether she wanted it to or not. Astrid felt weird, suddenly. Like she wanted to shove Heather's stupid, too-much-eyeliner-wearing face into the fridge handle and stand next to Hiccup instead.

"Oh god," she mumbled to herself, turning her body toward the counter where Tuffnut was trying to convince anyone and everyone to do tequila shots. "I'll do a shot with you."

"Nice! HOFFERSONNNNNN!"

Astrid did a shot (or maybe a double?) of tequila and it was so smooth. She looked at the bottle.

"This is Stoick's good tequila. Does Hiccup know you're drinking this?"

"Hoff, how about we find an empty room and you can hit me?"

Astrid frowned at him and poured herself another double (it was definitely a double and not a shot) of tequila.

"I don't want to hit you," Astrid said, her tongue feeling tingly and heavy in her mouth.

"What? You always want to hit people," Tuffnut said, his words all slurred together.

Astrid poured another, very sloppy double and knocked it back. Her fingers closed around the neck of the bottle, her other hand occupied with the shot glass.

"I'm confiscating this, Tuff. You will have to move on."

Tuffnut made a vague grab for her, which Astrid sidestepped easily. She laughed at the floppy way his body moved and he grinned at her. Astrid pushed the flat of her knuckles that held the bottle against his forehead lightly and he fell, sprawled out on the floor. She laughed hard and then looked up to find Hiccup watching her with a furrowed brow. Anger roiled up suddenly. What the hell was _he_ looking at? Shouldn't he be looking at his _girlfriend_? Astrid spun and stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs, straight into Hiccup's bedroom. She rolled her eyes. What a terrible idea. If Hiccup was going to get lucky, it was going to be in his own room.

Still. She didn't want to leave. Because maybe that would prevent Hiccup from getting lucky. Yes. Astrid liked this idea far more than a completely platonic best friend should. But it was Heather that was the problem. It was _her_. Hiccup could have a girlfriend, it just couldn't be Heather. Why did he _like_ her? She was so _sneaky_. Astrid was convinced that Heather was after something. She didn't even go to their school. She went to their _rival_ school. And then one day, randomly, she fell in front of a car just when Hiccup happened to be walking by? What was this? A romantic comedy starring Drew Barrymore? No. This was Berk. Romance didn't happen in front of speeding vehicles. It happened _on_ them. Or in them. Or…something. She thought about Hiccup's car – black and sleek and shiny and fast. She wanted to be in his car right now. Maybe in the backseat. Maybe with her hands in Hiccup's hair.

Wait, WHAT? Nonononono. This was _Hiccup_ she was talking about. Hiccup who never asked her for anything. Hiccup who – was standing in the doorway.

"Astrid?"

She dropped the bottle of super expensive tequila. "Shit."

But she wasn't saying shit about the bottle. No, she was saying shit because she'd just realized a fundamental fact that disturbed her perfect world.

Hiccup had dropped to the floor, gathering up the bottle and examining it for damage, mopping up the spilled alcohol with a dirty t-shirt with his free hand. Astrid couldn't do anything but watch him with completely new (somewhat tequila-addled) eyes. He stood up and swayed unsteadily on his prosthetic. In the back of her head, there was a completely reasonable Astrid who wanted to tell him off for drinking in his prosthetic (as if he had any choice — it's not like he could just _will_ his foot back).

"It's not broken," he said, grinning and shrugging.

His eyes came up to meet hers and his brow flinched ever so slightly. His eyes were so _green_. But she'd known that. Of course she'd known that. They're best friends. That reasonable Astrid in her brain was yelling at her about ruining friendships, but tequila-Astrid told her to shut the hell up because what did she know anyway?

"Astrid? Are you—"

They were best friends and she shouldn't be kissing him. They were best friends and this could ruin everything. They were best friends and he shouldn't be kissing her back. But he was.


	2. BFFs

Astrid woke up sore and disoriented. Was someone hammering a nail into her head? Because that's what it felt like. And what _was_ that in her back? She rolled onto her side and opened her eyes. At first, all she saw was blurry yellow and she panicked. When she brought her hand up to her face, she was surprised to pull a piece of paper off her face. She stared at it crumpled in her hand, confused. Her eyes then traced up and over the paper because in her peripheral she saw a pink shoulder dotted with freckles. Her eyes widened when she followed the line of that shoulder across a speckled collar bone, up a familiar throat, to an exceedingly familiar jaw and mouth and nose and closed eyes below thick eyebrows and a disheveled mop of auburn hair. _Hiccup._

"Oh god," Astrid whispered.

Last night was spotty in places and _completely crystal effing clear_ in others. That _thing_ in her back? Yeah, that was Hiccup's arm. _Hiccup's_ arm. _Oh god, oh god._ Astrid swallowed with some difficulty, her mouth dry and tacky, a side effect of mass tequila consumption. She had the matching headache to go with it. Her muscles had seized into a violently tense state as she stared at Hiccup and gnawed on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. She'd had sex with Hiccup. Her _best friend_.

Part of her wanted to recoil, grab her things and run right out of the house (you know, the house she'd spent her childhood practically living in? Yeah, that one). What if this _ruined_ everything? What if Hiccup woke up and looked at her differently? Oh god, who was she kidding? This was _Hiccup_. Of course he'd look at her differently. They wouldn't be able to just pick up and carry on like before; he'd overanalyze _everything_. A strange but undeniably true thought occurred to Astrid: she didn't _want _to pick up and carry on like before.

Her eyes fell shut and she willed herself to take long, deep breaths. Like she was in freaking yoga class. _Long, slow, even in and out breaths_, she told herself. What had happened? That's what she needed to know. She opened her eyes and stared at Hiccup's sleeping face (god, he was _so cute_ when his brow wasn't furrowed); she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. Once she was satisfied that he was still sleeping, she lifted the sheets and peeked. Yes, yes they were definitely naked. She was frozen in place trying to correlate what she was seeing beneath the sheets with her best friend. _Well, well, well, Haddock,_ she thought with a smirk, _you've been holding out on me._ Astrid shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, hastily clamping the sheet back down.

"Okay, Hofferson," she whispered, eyes still closed tightly, "There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this." Her eyes snapped open and she rolled them, "And that would be tequila."

Hiccup grumbled something unintelligibly and rolled toward her, his free arm snaking around her waist so that they were face to face. He tugged her body into his and nuzzled into her shoulder, grinning happily. Oh god, what if he thought she was Heather? Oh god, oh god. _Heather._ Where the hell _was_ Heather? What the hell _happened_ last night?

"Mm, Astrid," Hiccup murmured into her skin.

Astrid held her breath, her heart speeding with the sudden, chilling rush of adrenaline through her veins. Her body melted once she realized that he was still asleep. And he'd just murmured _her_ name. In his sleep. Her smile felt foreign in the strangeness of this morning and somehow she felt a little lighter. Maybe things would be okay after all.

Okay. She had to retrace her steps and figure out what happened. Effing Snot had stood her up. She remembered this clearly. Then she'd started doing shots with Tuff. That was still clear, too. The sight of Hiccup and Heather had made her _feel_ things that she hadn't liked and she'd retreated to Hiccup's room. Still good. Then, then she'd been in his room. And he'd come in the room. And she'd realized that she hadn't liked Heather. No. (Well, she _didn't. _That was true. But that wasn't it.) She'd realized that she had less than platonic feelings for Hiccup – she'd _kissed_ him.

Hiccup's breath was hot and moist against her skin of her shoulder, every inhale shockingly icy. The rhythmic pace kept her grounded in the here and now.

She'd kissed Hiccup and he'd kissed her back and it had been _wonderful_. (Although she had to wonder at that assessment since she had definitely had more than her fair share of tequila by then.) Then what?

_Heather_, that's what. Heather had interrupted them. It had been this quiet, little gasp of surprise from the doorway that had made Hiccup jump back from Astrid, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wide and green and black. More black than green. It had made something in Astrid's core _roar_ for _more_. Astrid had licked her lips liking the taste of Hiccup on them.

At first, no one had said a word. But it was in that silent moment that Astrid had decided that she would win this conquest. That _Heather_ with her stupid, perfect cat eye make-up _couldn`t_ have him. Hiccup was hers. He'd always been hers and she didn't like to share. She'd crossed her arms and stood with her hip jutting out to one side – aggressive, combative, _threatening_. Heather had glared at her.

"I thought you were _just friends_," Heather spat, making air quotes with her fingers.

"I—" Hiccup sputtered, sparing a nervous glance at Astrid.

Astrid had taken a bellicose step forward. "Funny, he said the same thing about you."

Hiccup had moved toward her, hands outstretched. "Astrid."

Astrid had brushed him off and stalked toward Heather with feline grace, smiling confidently. She had this. Heather narrowed her eyes.

"You skank," she hissed lowly.

Astrid's smile had been involuntary as she launched herself at the other girl. It was a messy drunk girl fight – screeching and nails and hair-pulling. Not Astrid's preference, not by a long shot, but Heather played dirty, so she'd had to stoop to her level.

Wait. Then what happened? Astrid closed her eyes and breathed. Someone had pulled her off of Heather. Hiccup. Hiccup had pulled her off of Heather, his arms familiar bands of strength around her. He'd murmured her name into her back, attempting to calm her. But someone else had been there. Someone who'd pulled Heather back.

Astrid let out an audible sigh and Hiccup nestled into her shoulder more, like a cat. Snuggling into her warmth. She wanted pepper his face with kisses. She wanted to touch him everywhere. She _had_ touched him everywhere last night. She remembered bits and pieces of that. His skin had been impossibly soft, his mouth had been hot and hungry and unyielding, his—well, never mind. She swallowed because thinking about _that_ wasn't going to help _anything_. Back to last night.

Someone had pulled Heather back. _Snotlout_. That effing guy. He'd stormed through the door of Hiccup's room and pulled Heather off of Astrid.

"Whoa, cat fight!" he'd exclaimed.

The sound of his voice had enraged Astrid because that effing _jerk_ had stood her up. He'd _stood her up_. _No one_ stood up Astrid Hofferson, least of all Snotlout Jorgensen. Astrid had tried to shake off Hiccup, but he knew her too well and kept his arms encircled around her. Heather had much better luck shouldering Snotlout off. She'd run a shaking hand through her mussed hair, sent a scathing look toward Astrid, and then appealed directly to Hiccup.

"Hiccup, come on. I'll forgive you," she said.

Astrid had waited on bated breath for his response. His arms had loosened around her, but not enough that he'd let her go. She elbowed him lightly in the stomach and he dropped his hands away. If she was going to lose (and how could she not? Heather was his _girlfriend_), then she was going to do it with dignity.

"Thanks," he'd said, his voice suspiciously holding a note of sarcasm. Astrid had glanced at him and found his face hard and determined. "But, I don't think there's anything to forgive."

He'd shrugged and Astrid had bit back a triumphant laugh. Heather's mouth had fallen open. "What?"

"Well, you've been stringing me along for _weeks_," he'd said, stepping forward and gesturing with his hands, "But we haven't gone on a date. We _aren't_ going out," he'd paused, giving one final, dismissive shrug, "I didn't do anything wrong."

Heather's mouth had hung open and Astrid had laughed, a short stifled giggle. Heather glared at her. "You know what, Astrid? He's all yours."

"Oh, how generous of you."

Heather had given her one, last blistering glare before flouncing out of the room.

"Wait, what?" Snotlout was slow on the uptake, but it had finally gotten through his thick skull what she and Heather had been fighting over. Or rather _who._ "_Wait_, you were fighting over _Hiccup_? Astrid, how could you?"

Hiccup hadn't been fast enough to catch her and she'd managed to land a vicious right hook in Snot's jaw that sent him stumbling to the ground.

"Astrid!" Snotlout exclaimed, holding his jaw.

"That's for standing me up! _No one _stands up a Hofferson."

"You better get out of here, Snot. I can only hold her for so long. After that, all bets are off, but I'd bet on Astrid any day," Hiccup had offered dryly, his arms once again caging Astrid.

Snotlout had hurried out the door with comical speed, holding his jaw.

Even though he didn't need to anymore, Hiccup had kept his arms around Astrid. It had moved from simple restraint to _something else_. He'd rested his chin against her shoulder and spoken into her ear, his breath tickling her neck.

"I should take a look at that hand."

Astrid had barely nodded, somehow completely lucid while being totally buzzed. Then they'd been on the bed, Hiccup examining the knuckles of her right hand, his fingertips barely tracing her skin and sending shivers up her arm. She'd watched him and she'd known exactly why she'd kissed him. He made her heart pound. He made her head spin (and no, it wasn't the tequila. This was a different spin, a good one). He made her want to be better. He was her best friend. He was the best _person_.

His eyes had risen to hers and he'd lifted her bruised hands to his lips, brushing her skin with light, delicate kisses until she couldn't stand it anymore. Until she'd pushed him down on the bed and kissed him in earnest. And, well, it had progressed from there, hadn't it? And now she was here, naked in his bed and tangled up in him. She wasn't sorry.

Unable to resist any longer, Astrid leaned down and kissed the swell of Hiccup's cheekbone. His arms tightened around her and he mumbled her name again. She kissed him again and again and again until he opened his big green eyes and…blanched.

"Astrid?!"

If it had been under any other circumstances, she would have laughed at how quickly he disentangled himself from her, how red his face was. But it wasn't funny and he wasn't looking at her.

"Hiccup," she said tentatively.

"Oh god," he moaned, burying his hands in his hair.

Astrid watched him and felt a heavy dread building in her stomach. What if he actually regretted this? What if it had been all a mistake to him? Oh god, what _if_? His repeated groans of 'oh god' weren't exactly instilling confidence.

"Hiccup, look at me."

He did, eyes wide and _terrified_. He didn't want this. It had been a mistake. Astrid shook her head and tried to hide the overbearing feeling of disappointment that welled up suddenly. She rolled over to climb out of bed but paused when a flurry of sticky notes fluttered around her.

"What the—?"

She grabbed one and read it. And laughed.

"Oh god," Hiccup moaned again, "Astrid, just, maybe we should leave those."

"Uh uh," she said, reading another one.

"Astrid."

"No way, these are too good."

She didn't remember writing these and they were _hilarious_. The one she was currently reading said:

_Dear Future Astrid,_

_You will wake up and think this was a bad idea. It was the _best_ idea. And Haddock has some downright delicious abs. I know because I licked them. You should try it._

_Love,_

_Past Astrid (aka Tequila Astrid)_

"Astrid," Hiccup said, this time grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back into his chest.

Her heart thumped rapidly and suddenly as she leaned against the warm expanse of his chest. She could have sworn that she could feel his heart pounding against her back, rushing in tandem with hers.

"Did you—I mean, there was one on your," he paused, hesitation evident, "There was one on your head."

"Mm hmm?"

"Did…did you read it?"

"Not yet."

Hiccup let out a sigh of relief that she could feel ruffling through her hair. "Good."

He turned her by her shoulders so that they were facing each other. Here was the Hiccup she knew so well, biting his lip and deliberating on what to say next.

"Look, maybe we should just, you know, forget about last night. We can go back to the way things used to be and—"

"I don't want to go back to the way things used to be."

For a minute, Hiccup was speechless. Anyone who knew him would know that this was quite a feat. Astrid was actually pretty proud of herself over it.

"You don't?"

She shook her head. "I don't. Do you?"

Astrid saw it forming, the hints of a smile. Hiccup shook his head tentatively, as though he was waiting for the whole thing to fall down around him. Astrid grinned.

"I just – I mean—"

Astrid kissed him to shut him up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She opened her right hand, which still contained the crumpled note she'd pulled off her forehead. With her arms still wrapped around Hiccup, his arms safely enclosing her body against his, she smoothed the note out and read it. And read it again. And read it one more time.

"Me too," she whispered.

Hiccup stiffened and she pulled back, grinning and holding the note in her fingers. Hiccup looked at it and flushed red. Then he looked at her and whispered,

"Really?"

"Of course, Haddock. Forever."

Hiccup's face split into a smile that reached his eyes and stretched beyond them. Astrid hugged him again and read the note one more time,

_Hofferson,_

_Don't worry, I'll always love you. Tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon, tomorrow night. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Forever._

_HHH III_


End file.
